


I See Myself in You (And I Goddamn Wish I Didn't)

by CatelynJones



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Lets pretend they never happened, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not Beta Read, Panic Attacks, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Has Issues, Peter has a lot of issues to work through, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Self-Harm, Slurs, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has Issues, We Die Like Men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-01-23 23:49:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18559612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatelynJones/pseuds/CatelynJones
Summary: NOT A FINISHED WORK - DISCONTINUEDA lot happened over the first year of life as Spiderman, and Peter had attempted to deal with precisely none of it.Like all good high school students, he was going to leave that riiiiigggghhhhttt until the last possible minuteHow long can an ordinary kid cope with the pressure of keeping up his academic performance and keeping Queens safe, while also trying desperately to repress the fallout from Homecoming?Not long at all.~discontinued for a variety of reasons~**Endgame spoiler free** Why? Because it burnt me to the ground and I am refusing to accept its existence.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I have other WIPs to write  
> No, I should not be starting a new fic  
> Yes, I plan to finish the other one  
> No, this fic isn't finished  
> Yes, I plan to finish it  
> No, It is not well thought out or edited...
> 
> The damn thing won't stop bouncing around my head and I literally could not sleep until I posted this.
> 
> Mind the tags people. Flash says some... Rather choice things and it's a bit nasty. But it's meant to be bullying so.. *shrugs*
> 
> As usual, leave me some feedback.. This one feels so much more disjointed than usual

It had been weeks since Homecoming night. How many? Peter had no idea. Honestly, the whole thing passed with a frankly disturbing sense of normalcy.

He got up, went to school, got bullied, came home, went out on patrol… Only now May knew he was Spiderman. And honestly even _that_ didn’t have too many repercussions. There were rules now, about his patrolling hours, and yeah, it was a _huge_ argument when it had first happened, but she seemed to accept that it was always going to be a part of his life.

Peter _needed_ Spiderman. He couldn’t just sit by when he had the power to help people. May had just cupped his face and smiled in a sad way.

“There is so much of Ben in you,” she had whispered before pressing a teary kiss to her nephew’s forehead. They cried quietly together on the couch for what felt like hours, before May squared her shoulders, pulled back and looked Peter in the eye “You _will_ be careful. You _will_ check in with me as often as possible. You _will absolutely_ tell me if you are injured and there better be no dip in your grades.” She had paused and steeled her gaze, “Okay?”

Peter laughed softly, “Yes Aunt May.”

She nodded solemnly, “Right, now go out there and chase down bicycle thieves!”

Peter rolled his eyes, “I do other stuff y’know! I save a lot of people from muggings…”

May sighed, “Yes, but those involve knives and guns and I don’t want to think about it. Can I just pretend you track down lost dogs and help old ladies cross the street instead?”

“Yeah, yeah ok.” At that moment, Peter realised he would never _really_ be able to go to May with any Spiderman related issues. There was no way he wanted to put that amount of stress on his Aunt, regardless of her asking for it or not.

So he slipped on the suit, slid out the window and slotted back into his old routines.

Eat, sleep, spider, repeat.

It had been a meme Ned had sent it to him at 3 am and Peter laughed and saved it to his phone.

It was pretty accurate.

Just add in his school work and that summed up his life. May was pretty happy to let Peter run to his own timetable as long as he got to school on time, stayed safe and kept up with his work. So he dug his heels in, kept his head down and worked hard. Between school, decathlon and his… extracurriculars, Peter’s time with Ned and MJ was dwindling. It frustrated him, but what could he do? As far as he knew, time travel wasn’t real, and unless someone managed to give him extra time to fit in everything, something had to give.

What Peter _wasn’t_ expecting, was the way the self-imposed isolation slowly began to chip away at him. Sure, he shared classes with his friends, but he spent every break writing essays while trying to shovel enough food in to keep his body running and every weekend catching up on the school readings. His nights were spent swinging around the skies in Queens and every other spare second was filled with half-assed attempts at catching up on lost sleep.

By the time Peter finally got into bed at the end of the day, his eyes were usually closed before his head hit the pillow. It wasn’t that he was unable to get to sleep, it was that he wasn’t able to _stay_ asleep. He always woke up feeling exhausted and drained.

Sure, Peter expected it to be hard. Not once did he really think that it would be easy. He had given some thought to how he would cope when he was too late, or he made a mistake. But Peter never expected to be violently awoken late in the night or early in the morning, watching the moment on repeat play out behind his eyelids. The sound of the ferry ripping itself apart under its own weight, the feel of concrete pressing down on him, dust filling his lungs. The screams of his friends as the elevator began to fall.

He never expected to be plagued by memories so vivid he forgot where he was during his day as Peter Parker.

He never expected to feel his heart stop and cold terror to drip down his spine the first time he faced someone in a parking garage. For once, fear stole his words instead of loosening his tongue and Peter took a back seat as Spiderman webbed the gun out of the would-be mugger’s hand, then wrapped him up and had an onlooker call the cops. As soon as the man was disarmed and no one was in immediate danger, Peter had darted up the stairs and scaled the side of the building.

Once there was nothing above him but open sky, he finally allowed himself to process what was happening. The trip up the side of the building had been a blur and Peter honestly couldn’t even remember how the scene in the garage had wound up. His breath had come in pained gasps and some small part of his brain had realised that he was panicking. His hearing had begun to fade into static like a poorly tuned radio.

Peter had no idea how long he had lain on the roof of that building, but by the time the world cleared back into focus he had 13 missed calls from May.

One of the terrible things about being intelligent is the ability to run multiple thoughts simultaneously. In the moments between Karen pulling Peter out of his own mind and the phone ringing for a 14th time, Peter managed to categorise what was happening to him ( _flashback, panic attack: likely a form of PTSD. Expected, given the circumstances. Treatable, manageable_ ), decide he should be able to manage the inexplicable fear somehow ( _failure to manage the situation must stem from inadequate coping mechanisms_ ) and decide that he should not be experiencing this ( _Failure to develop coping mechanisms is inexcusable. This is a personal failing_ ).

Besides, wasn’t PTSD something that victims of trauma developed? Soldiers? People who have suffered greatly at the hands of someone else?

( _Suffering is self-inflicted: response is unacceptable._ )

He swiped the screen on his phone and took a deep breath. He would answer this now, and he would act so he didn’t have to deal with the fallout.

It was going to be fine.

***

For the 5th night in a row, Peter woke from a nightmare so real he could taste the blood and dust in his mouth and feel the crushing weight on his chest. Only, when sat up in bed, the suffocating weight compressing his lungs hadn’t decreased in the slightest.

Peter shuffled back until he was pressed into the corner of his little bunk bed. His knees were pulled up to his chest and his hands were in his hair. He was crumpled up in the smallest ball he could manage, but it still didn’t feel small enough.

There was an overwhelming sense of terror. Any second now, something was going to go _terribly_ wrong. If he could keep himself quiet enough, make himself small enough, it would stop. It would go away.

A strained whimper escaped his lips and Peter found himself shoving the flesh of his thumb between his teeth. The tension was clear in every line of his body. He felt as if he was going to explode if he couldn’t hold himself together. Peter bit down on the flesh of his hand and relished in the bright burst of pain. It felt as though he was slicing through the invisible bands that were holding him captive. He took a shuddering breath and bit down again.

He bit down and held the bite for two, three, four long seconds, then allowed his breath to slowly slip out around his hand and teeth. Some more tension backed off and Peter nodded to himself. This was working, the part of his brain that was screaming that he was going to die was beginning to quieten. Slowly, he moved on to a different part of his hand and repeated the cycle. Again, and again and again.

Until he was flat on his back and it felt as though his body was made of lead. The rational part of his mind was telling him that there was no point in sleeping as it would be time for school soon enough, but it was overpowered by the sheer exhaustion that plagued him.

 _I was meant to be better than this_ , Peter though sadly to himself as his eyes slipped closed and he dropped back into a fitful sleep.

He was still tired the next morning, but with the pain clearing his thoughts, Peter had gotten back to sleep in record time. Usually, it was a lost cause if he had a nightmare, but last night…

Peter knew about self-harm. He didn’t live under a rock and Captain America had done a hilariously awkward PSA on the subject that he had to watch in health class recently. So yeah, Peter knew it was a thing, but until now, he had no idea why someone would actually do it.

Now though… Now Peter couldn’t help but think about what he could do if he found a way to curb his panic.

He wasn’t stupid. Peter knew he had something going on, but up until now, he had no way of coping with it. It was stupid, and definitely not a good idea, but what if there was a situation where Spiderman was needed and he was too busy panicking to help? That wasn’t stupid, was it?

Peter dodged and wove through pedestrians to make his way to the school gate. He had gotten a whole 4 hours sleep last night and it was showing on his face.

“Hey, Peter!”

Peter looked around and saw Ned standing by the front steps, he smiled widely and ran over. “Hey! How was the weekend? Did you end up heading to the movies with the fam or…?”

Ned beamed at Peter, it had been some time since he had seen his friend so… Lively. “Yeah! We did! Ended up going to the movies then spending the day with mom and dad. We went to the museum and saw the Star Wars exhibit! It was so cool! They had Darth Vader’s _real_ helmet!”

Peter smiled and let Ned ramble on about his weekend. For once actually having the brain space to pay attention. It was amazing how much difference an extra 2hrs of sleep made.

***

Peter’s good mood lasted just long enough to make it through the first period. Unfortunately, in English, they had a sub teacher and were given time to do some independent reading and research. Peter was reading another analysis of _Fahrenheit 451_ when something from the other side of the room caught his attention.

Flash had his phone out, with a small group people gathered around, watching something on the screen. Peter’s stomach dropped as he realised it was a Spiderman video. That wasn’t uncommon, there were plenty of them around, people loved to get a clip of him swinging around, and even better if he was doing something cool. That was fine. What Peter really hated was when they got a video of him messing up. It was bad enough that he was already replaying it in his own head, but to see it on film was a whole other thing.

The laughing was getting louder and Peter couldn’t help but stare. Someone had put a lot of time and effort into this video from the sounds of it. It looked like a compilation of all the times Spiderman had fallen from a web or building while on patrol set to the Benny Hill theme song. If it was any other day, Peter would have laughed. It was objectively funny and Peter and Ned had definitely laughed at Ironman and Captain America blooper videos. But today, it was more than he could take.

It didn’t help when Flash caught him staring.

“OI! Penis!” The crowd around him giggled and gave Flash the courage to continue, “What are you staring at? You worried about your boyfriend Spiderman?”

The crowd laughed, but Peter actually looked confused, “Wait… What? Are you seriously teasing me by calling Spiderman, my boyfriend? That’d be pretty epic.”

Flash frowned, “Whatever.” He laughed again as the video showed a rather spectacular fall, “You know what is really funny Penis? Even with Spiderman fucking up heaps recently, he still wouldn’t be friends with a dipshit loser like you.”

Peter rolled his eyes as Flash stood up and walked towards Peter’s desk. He dropped down in front of him and leant in really close, “You’re just a dumbass nobody. They only let you stay here because people feel sorry for you. You are so pathetic that you have to lie about an internship with Stark, the only way you’d ever get a job like that would be by blowing someone. Is that it? Stark like ‘em young yeah? That’s why he keeps a fucking faggot like you around?” Flash got real close now, he was almost whispering in Peter’s ear, “One day, he’s going to wake up and realise what a liability you really are. Everyone you care about dies Peter. How long do you think Stark and your Aunt May have left?”

He smirked, “Think about it. Your parents? Dead. Your Uncle? Dead. Your Aunt? Literally working herself to death to feed a kid she never wanted. You get a crush on Liz and her dad goes to jail and suddenly she’s gone too. Ned was almost killed in that field trip mess. Can’t you see Pete? You’re the common denominator in all that.

“The only one to blame, is you.”

Peter didn’t even blink before he grabbed his phone and bag and swept out of the room.

He made a beeline for the boy's bathroom and locked himself in the stall furthest from the door. Closed the lid and sat down. He had no idea what to do now. Part of him wanted to run and fight. To go back into that room and grab Flash by the throat and slam him against the wall. And to keep going until his head lolled to the side and there was blood running down Peter’s hands.

Another part wanted to scream and cry. He wanted to scream that it wasn’t fair and he was only doing his best. That it wasn’t his fault and he did everything he could. He wanted to scream that he was Spiderman and a student and he _was_ a Stark intern and he was balancing it all with school and he was fucking _smart._ He wanted to scream that there is nothing wrong with being gay and that he wasn’t even sure what he was anyway! He got the grades he did by working his ass off and he deserved his place.

The rational part of his mind held Peter where he was and held him silent.

He couldn’t run. He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t fight. He was stuck.

Stuck in the one spot, so full of hurt and rage and anger that his chest felt like it was wrapped in metal bands.

Without thinking he turned and smashed both hands down on the cistern of the toilet. Porcelain when flying and there was water everywhere. Sharp shards of ceramic littered the stall and several had cut into Peter’s arms.

Looking down, he saw the blood before he felt the pain.

He looked at the mess he had made, and he finally settled on an action.

Peter Parker ran.

As soon as he could he made it onto a roof and ran across the city , rooftop to rooftop, praying that no one saw him. When he was far enough away, Peter sunk to the ground and dragged his fingers across his already torn up arms. He watched in fascination and awe as the wounds which had already begun to heal peeled open again and began to spew fresh blood onto the concrete.

With a morbid joy, Peter laughed.

***

“Boss? Baby monitor protocol has been activated by Peter’s suit’s AI.”

Tony blinked up at the ceiling and internally cursed at the habit he had picked up from the rest of the team. He _certainly_ knew that Friday did not live in the roof, but the behaviour was hard to kick...

“What’s Karen reporting?”

There was a slight pause as Friday sorted through the incoming inputs. “Peter appears to be in significant distress and is not responding to auditory stimulus. He has remained stationary for some time Boss.”

Tony frowned, “Patch me through to the suit.”

“He isn’t in the suit Boss.”

Tony frowned and looked at the time, wait, 2 pm? Shouldn’t the kid be in school?

“If he isn’t in the suit, why, and _how_ has Karen been alerting us?”

“It appears the suit is in his backpack and Karen was concerned about the speed and altitude of travel given Peter was not wearing the suit.”

Tony smiled, that was new. Karen was a learning AI and it seems she had learnt that she could remain active even if the suit wasn’t being worn. He shook his head and tried to wrangle his thoughts back to the task at hand.

“Ok, well patch me through to the kid’s phone then, and push the call through.”

“Done and done.”

The first thing Tony noticed was the sound of crying filtering through the call. It was clear the phone wasn’t right next to whoever it was, everything was a little muffled, but StarkTech wasn’t considered the best of the best for nothing.

“Friday, can you please get Karen access to the phone’s cameras? And also pull the feed up on here.”

The camera feed wasn’t particularly interesting, it had clearly been dropped face up on the floor and Tony could see was the sky and the clouds and the edge of something that might have been a television antennae.

The crying actually sounded a little like hysterical laughter. Tony felt his heart miss a beat. “Hey, Underroos. Can you hear me?”

There was no reply, but Tony could hear footsteps coming and going.

“Boss, I think someone is pacing around the roof.”

Tony nodded, that made sense, he was staring at the unchanging video feed when it was suddenly obscured by red.

“Uhh Fri, what’s happening?”

Friday slowed the video and rewound it. Tony could see the red come out of the sky and land on the phone.

It almost looked like….

“Boss scans suggest the red substance obscuring the camera is blood.”

Tony was on his feet and moving towards the Iron Man armour before he knew it. With a vague hand gesture, he had the call transferred through to his earpiece and listened intently to the sounds on the other end of the line.

“Hey kid, I know you can’t hear me right now, but I’m going to keep on talking until I have eyes on you. Ok? Otherwise, I am going to go insane. Ok. So I don’t know what’s going on but I have some really big concerns about what you are doing. I’m sorry if I am drawing the wrong conclusion, but between what we think might be blood on the camera and the hysterical laughing or crying I can hear I am starting to really worry about you right now…”

Tony continued on like this for the next few minutes as he zipped between buildings. He sorely wished he could go faster, be there sooner, but CASA had some very stern things to say about “safety” and “regulations” that even Tony Stark was having difficulty navigating.

It was then he caught the first non-hyperventilating sound from the other end of the line. There was the rustling of fabric and then a very soft “Shit..”

“Pete! Peter, can you answer me, please? Peter?” Tony was coming up on the building.

There was still no reply, but at least Tony knew that it _was_ Peter with his phone. He sighed a breath of relief as the kid came into view. He had his back flush against some sort of cooling tower, curled into the tightest ball possible.

There was more blood than there should be on the ground.

Tony frowned deeply and stepped out of the suit to crouch down in front of Peter. The kid was shaking and it took far too long for him to notice Tony was even there. Eventually, he reached out a hand and placed it on Peter’s shoulder, causing the kid to jump slightly.

Peter’s eyes were still unfocused and Tony opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off, “P-pplease. Can we just leave it?” Tony sighed but Peter pushed on, “I can’t talk about this now.”

The look on the kid’s face was so heartbreakingly pleading, that Tony just couldn’t push it right then and there. He sighed again, resigned, “Yeah, yeah ok. But I’m taking you home.” He wasn’t going to let this go, but right now? Right now the kid just needed comfort.

And a medic.

Tony slipped Peter’s arm over his shoulder and hauled the kid off the ground. “C’ mon kid, I got you.”

Peter nodded mutely and allowed himself to be led down the stairs and into the car Tony had called. The suit flew itself home, while its creator took care of his protegee.

The car ride home was over in a blink for Peter, but for Tony, it felt like the longest ride he’d taken in some time. He had the kid pulled against his side tightly the whole way, and he could feel the fine tremors running through his frame. There were rapidly healing gouges down the kid’s forearms and blood staining his shirt, bag and jeans.

He had no idea what was going on, but Tony knew there was no way he was walking away from this one without some answers.

May wasn’t home yet, so he helped a practically non-responsive Peter out of his bloody clothes and into his pyjamas. He grabbed a wet cloth from the bathroom and cleaned him up as best he could before tucking Peter into bed. Only then Tony allowed himself to collapse on the sofa in the living room.

He dropped his head to his hands. What the hell was going on?

God damn, he needed a drink right now.

His hands itched to rifle through the Parker’s kitchen and look for a carefully tucked away bottle…

He blew out a breath and ran his hands through his grease-stained hair. Tony might not have any idea what to do, but Pepper might, and May might. This wasn’t something he could do alone, he needed help. He would start with the smartest women in his life and then come up with a plan.

Tony pulled out his phone and punched in May’s mobile number. Since he was sitting in her house, she should probably know what was going on.

“May? It’s Tony, sorry to call you at work, but it’s about Peter…”

***

May looked at Peter’s closed bedroom door.

She had left work, citing a family emergency, the second she got Tony’s call. May had come home in a rush to find Tony Stark sitting in her living room looking exhausted. Without too much to say about it, she sat down next to him and joined his quiet vigil.

They didn’t talk much that afternoon, but eventually, the rumble of May’s stomach became too loud to ignore.

Tony looked across at the woman who was rapidly becoming a friend, “Where’s the best place to get food from around here?”

May blinked at him, “What?”

“Dinner. Where do you usually order it from?”

May shook her head. “Oh, right. Uhh… The Thai place a block away.”

Tony nodded, “Hey Fri? Can you order us something for dinner from that place?”

May jumped in surprise as Friday replied, “Absolutely Boss, it’ll be here in halfa.”

“Thank you.” Tony looked at May, so, “Dinner is sorted… Have you noticed anything off with Pete recently?”

May bit her lip, “A few things, but I just put it down to stress. He always seemed tired and he kinda fades if he thinks you aren’t paying attention. It’s like it’s too much effort?” May swallowed, “He, uh, he also has nightmares.”

Tony nodded, “Do you know what they are about?”

May shook her head. “No, I have tried to bring them up, but Pete never wants to talk about it and I’m too scared of surprising him during the night if I go into his room. He’s so strong now and I’m just… Well, I'm just me.”

“That’s… Well, that’s probably a wise move, to be honest…”

Tony stood and walked to the kid’s door and peeked inside. He was sound asleep, his chest rising and falling gently and his heart rate was slow and steady. Or so Karen, now installed in Peter’s watch and phone, told him. He tiptoed into the room and gently turned the boy’s arms over. He was pleased to see the injuries from earlier in the night had totally healed, leaving the faintest of white scars behind, along with a few specks of dried blood Tony had missed.

Satisfied, he went back to the living room where the food that had just been delivered was being unpacked.

The two of them at in silence then resumed their waiting.

At some point, May leaned into Tony and he put an arm around her. The two of them watching over the little spider.

It wasn’t all that long before the sun was rising and the clock was ticking over to “reasonable hour of the morning”. May had a crick in her neck from sleeping on Tony’s shoulder and Tony was a little ashamed to admit that he had definitely drooled in her hair.

Standing up, May looked at the clock. It was after 9…

Peter was never this late getting out of bed.

May knew he had been having some rough nights lately. She knew that the nightmares, coupled with the school work and the patrolling were starting to take their toll. Peter had been doing his best to hide the weariness on his face, but you can’t bullshit an ER nurse. May knew what exhaustion looked like. Years of bullying interns, worried parents and beleaguered residents into leaving the hospital had taught her exactly how strung out someone had to be to look the way her nephew was looking and it made her worried. She knew he was coming home later and sleeping less and less after patrol, but she had no idea how to bring it up.

Any time May tried to talk about his second life, Peter would clam up, slip on a cheeky smile and run off to school with an overly forced demeanour.

If he was doing anything else, she would have called it burnout.

But how do you take a holiday from your day to day life?

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

Tony turned to look at her with a questioning look, “I think I’m going to check on him…”

Tony nodded and bit his lip. May stood and padded silently to the closed bedroom door, gently pushing it open. Peter was flat on his back, sleeping the depth of someone who truly needed the rest. She nodded to her self and pulled out her cell. She dialled the school as she slowly closed the door and backed away.

By the time the receptionist picked up May was at the other end of the apartment, trying to keep her voice low to avoid waking Peter. Quickly she explained that he was ill and would be needing the next few days off.

He may not want to talk to his aunt about his problems, but May would be damned if she wasn’t going to find a way to help regardless.

She sat back down next to Stark and sighed, “He’s still sleeping. I called him off school today. I think he needs the rest.”

Tony nodded, “He was basically asleep by the time I got him home last night.”

May but her lip, “What do you think is going on with him?”

Tony sighed, they had covered this ground a few times now, “I don’t know. This really isn’t my forte…” He shook his head, “When I picked him up, it was like he didn’t even notice I was there. He just seemed panicky and lost. He barely spoke, and when I managed to get a word from him, he just begged me to leave it all alone and to forget things happened.”

May nodded slowly, “Ok… Ok.” She was chewing her lip again. “Do you think this is a Spiderman problem or a teenage boy problem?”

Tony barked out a laugh, “Well I guess in this case it would be one and the same since Spiderman IS a teenage boy..” He leant back on the couch, “I don’t know. He wasn’t in the suit, but he was covered in wounds. And it was the middle of the afternoon…”

“Well… I guess we won’t know more until he wakes up…”

***

When Peter finally rolled out of bed, his body ached. He knew he slept well past the time for school, the light was at the wrong angle for it to be anything _but_ late afternoon, and every fibre of his body longed to sink deeper into the mattress. He closed his eyes again and waited for… Well, he wasn’t exactly sure _what_ he wanted, only that he desperately wished to stop feeling like this.

Today, well today it just seemed too hard.

Peter knew he needed to get up and make it look like he was just getting home. He needed to keep up the façade for May, but today he just couldn’t make himself move. He was just stuck, sitting on the edge of his bed. It felt as if the move from horizontal to sitting had totally wiped him out. He couldn’t seem to get the energy to get up, but he _had_ to. He had to for May.

While he held this debate with himself, the door to his room creaked open and his Aunt stuck her head through the door. The smile on her face was cautious, but not surprised or angry.

_Damn, she must already know_

“Hey, honey. It’s good to see you’re finally awake.”

Peter’s face remained curiously blank, but he could feel the whisper of a flinch at the word “ _finally_ ”. It felt like a ripple running below the surface, not quite strong enough to mar the mirror finish on a still lake.

Slowly, May stepped into the room. She padded over to his bed and sat on the edge like she had when he was little and feeling unwell.

Peter tracked her movements and tried really hard to move over to make more room for his aunt. But his body didn’t seem to get the message.

How could he feel so… Disconnected from himself?

May’s smile tightened a fraction and she ran a hand through Peter’s hair. This time, he closed his eyes and leant into her touch.

“Do you want to talk about what’s going on?”

Peter slowly opened his eyes again and hoped the pleading expression was enough to signal that all he wanted was to drop the subject. He wanted nothing to go through his mind but the sensation of his Aunt’s weight pulling him to the side slightly, her hands, dry from constant hand washing, pressing against his cheek.

Slowly, May sighed, “Ok baby. Why don’t we head out to the living room and get you settled on the couch? Mr Stark picked you up last night and has been waiting around to see you today.”

Peter’s stomach went cold.

Oh _shit_

Everything from last night came rolling back in and Peter froze as he processed it all.

Mr Stark had found him. He had _seen_.

And now Mr Stark was here.

He was here and he was waiting for Peter.

_Shit_

He didn’t notice May grabbing him by the elbow and guiding him back onto his feet and out in the living room.

He couldn’t do this.

He didn’t even have time to work out what to do before the three of them were seated around the dining table, and May and Tony were looking at him expectantly.

“So, kid. Why don’t you tell us what happened yesterday?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our fav pair deal with the fallout from the day before. Cue sharing, emotional outbursts, feels and validation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for a brief mention of past substance abuse + suicide attempts. As well as a lot of negative self-talk.

Tony looked down at the pill organiser on the counter and sighed.

He hated the damn thing.

It may have been StarkTech and the best goddamn pillbox on the planet, but Tony really longed to blast it into next week with a well-aimed hit from the suit...

The bloody box seemed to run his life some days, with its three daily time slots and link-up to Friday, it seemed to be a constant source of irritation for him.

One medication had to be taken on an empty stomach, as it interacted with most other meds and lot of foods, one had to be taken in the morning, or it would keep him awake at night, and others had to be taken before bed, as they would make him sleepy. So. Three-time slots a day. His daily schedule was dictated by this hunk of high-tech organisational shit, and if he put a toe out of line, it would send alerts to his emergency contacts.

For the longest time, Tony despised the fact that he required the world’s saddest looking candy box to keep him from dissolving into an anxious, panicking, self-destructing mess. He thought of himself as weak and lazy, relying on these pharmaceutical crutches to get through the day. It had him questioning who he really even was. What if the meds were the only thing keeping him even vaguely tolerable to other people?

But the events of last night had him re-evaluating all that.

Because if there was anything he could get his hands on to make his kid feel even one percent better, he would embrace it with a wild abandon.

Because those were things he would absolutely never say to Peter. In that context, it seemed cold and cruel to deny his kid something that could improve things in any way. And to give them, but shame him for it…

Well, that was something Howard would do. And Tony had decided that if he ever thought “This is how Howard would have parented”, he’d do the exact opposite.

With another long-suffering sigh, Tony shook the “midday” meds into his palm and quickly downed them, washing the colourful capsules down with some tap water. May looked up at him and quirked an eyebrow and Tony grimaced. He hated talking about this.

“Everything ok?” May glanced back down at the shittest maraca in existence.

Tony let out a self-deprecating laugh, “We’re here worried about Peter and his issues, we don’t need to examine the personal failing of Tony Stark.”

May narrowed her eyes slightly, “So they are psych meds?”

“Does it matter?” Tony turned to put the accursed box back in the fridge and used the opportunity to break eye contact with the calculating look fixed on his back.

“I think given the situation, it matters a whole lot.”

Tony felt rage rise quickly within him and he whirled around to face May Parker, “Look, being on meds doesn’t make me any less able to help out with the kid. I’m not dangerous or going to lose it on him or something. Being on psychiatric medication doesn’t devalue a person.”

Just because _Tony_ feels that it devalues him doesn’t mean he will stand for someone else to put that on him.

May raised her hands in surrender, visibly taken back by her visitor's outburst, “Tony, I wasn’t meaning to suggest it was a problem. I was trying to say that Peter looks up to you a lot, and knowing that you sometimes struggle with things might make him look at himself in a bit of a different light.”

Tony froze, he hadn’t thought of it like that…

In the past, he had gone to great lengths to avoid sharing this piece of information with people. The only reason May was finding out now was that Tony couldn’t pry himself away from his kid long enough to take the meds in secret.

He had never thought of his diagnoses as a way to connect with the teen who was clearly struggling with his own mental health. Howard had always made it clear that anything less than perfection was something you kept hidden from others, and although Tony _knew_ he had nothing to be ashamed of, it was a hard gut instinct to shake.

Letting himself drop heavily onto a kitchen stool, Tony stared at an insignificant spot on the granite of the kitchen counter.

“Tony, if you have stuff going on, then maybe you can use it to help Peter to open up.” She smiled at Tony with clear fondness, “He really idolises you. You heard earlier, he didn’t say anything because he didn’t want you to think less of him because he was struggling.”

“I… I just… I’m so used to hiding this stuff. There was so much fallout after the Battle of New York and my history with addiction is pretty public and not exactly pretty. I kinda didn’t want to add to the mess.” Tony looks down at his hands, where he was busy pulling at dry skin around one of his nails.

May reached out and placed a hand on top of his, “I  understand why you would want to keep things out of the media. Hell knows you deserve _some_ privacy. But I think keeping things like this a secret from the people close to you just hurts everyone in the end…” She gave Tony’s hands a gentle squeeze before standing up from the kitchen counter, “I can promise you that no one here will ever think less of you for needing to talk, and my door is always open to you. Just… Keep it in mind, yeah?”

Tony was embarrassed to realise his eyes were welling up with tears and his voice was wet, “Yeah... Thanks, May. You’re a good person.”

May smiled and moved around into the kitchen, pulling out some things for lunch. “I know,” she smiled, “but so are you.”

***

Peter lay on the couch, pretending to be asleep as he listened to Mr Stark and his aunt bustle around the kitchen preparing something to eat. They were murmuring quietly, but it didn’t seem to be about more than the plan for the rest of the day. He allowed himself to think back on the morning’s conversation and he felt his cheeks grow hot at the memory.

It was one thing to have lost control, destroyed school property and then need rescuing from some random building, but it was another thing entirely to have to run through the whole thing again for two of the people he looked up to the most. The whole thing seemed absolutely ridiculous in the light of day and Peter was furious at himself for his actions.

The shame at what he had done was running through his veins, burning him from the inside out like acid. The urge to get up and _do_ something resurfaced and Peter realised with horror that it was similar to the feeling that built up yesterday before he smashed the toilet.

It had his breath coming in quiet gasps and all the muscles in his body tensing. His face was hot and his pulse began to pound in his ears. When Peter felt the urge to _run,scream,cry,bleed_ that made his wrists itch and his legs shake, he bit down on the side of his hand to muffle the sob.

May and Mr Stark were still busy in the kitchen, and he had definitely put them through more than enough in the last 24hrs. He didn’t need to add seeing him like this to the list. If he made a noise, they would come and see what was happening, if he got up and left, they would follow him.

All Peter could do is lay on the cushions and try to hold himself as still as possible. Nothing lasts forever and this feeling surely had to let up soon. But god, at this point Peter felt like he would do anything to make this stop. He was shaking and biting down even harder on his hand. The pain was starting to become difficult to cope with, but it kept him quiet and focussed. His eyes were scrunched closed and he was breathing through his nose with intense concentration.

It kept him so focussed Peter didn’t even notice when someone came to crouch down in front of him. Suddenly, there was a hand running through his hair and another prying the flesh out from between his teeth.

Peter kept his eyes screwed shut but he clung to the hand like it was his only lifeline in a stormy sea. He tugged it even closer to his chest and moments later Peter was being scooped up and held. Someone was running their hand through his hair while their other arm was wrapped tightly around his torso, holding him securely. He felt himself relax and Peter rested his head on the shoulder in front of him and allowed himself to be soothed.

It didn’t take long, however, for Peter to realise that he was being held tightly by the one and only Tony Stark. He tried to push himself away, but Tony wasn’t having any of it.

“Kid, you’re ok. Please, just… Just let me look after you?”

Peter froze, then melted into the hold. He hated himself a little for allowing this, but goddamn it felt good to let himself to be loved.

He had no idea how long Tony stayed there, but eventually, his mentor was pulling back a little to allow him to see Peter’s face. His heart twisted to see how red and blotchy Peter’s face was. He shifted them so the teen was seated couch next to him.

“Hey Pete, you ok?”

Peter is staring furiously at his lap, a blush rising in his cheeks. He nods and Tony raises an eyebrow.

“Hmm, yeah, cos you definitely look ok. Want to tell me what that was about?” Peter’s blush darkens, and he quirks his head to the side in some semblance of an aborted shake. Tony sighs, “Ok… But we need to work things out eventually.”

He watches as Peter’s shoulder sag and he curls himself into a tighter ball.

The fact that his little spider would rather implode than talk about his feelings has Tony steeling his nerves. “Kid..”

The uncertainty in Tony’s voice makes Peter looks up from his lap, “I uhm… Your Aunt suggested I talk to you about something… She, uhh, she thought it might make it easier for you to talk to me.”

Tony shifted in his seat and rubbed roughly at the stubble on his chin, “I thought maybe I could tell you a thing, and then you could tell me a thing. Y’know, so uhh, so you don’t feel like the spotlight is on you only.”

Peter looked at his mentor and tried to put two and two together, “Uhhh….”

“I want you to feel like you can talk to me, and May said that talking to you might be the best way to do that.”

“Ooohhkaaayy…?” Peter was a little lost, and he felt wrong-footed by his earlier… Whatever it was. Crying into Tony’s shoulder for the better part of the last hour was humiliating. And the fact that he was crying because he was ashamed of how he had acted that morning was even worse. But this… This is not what Peter had expected.

He turned to face Tony more and tried to look much calmer than he felt.

Tony coughed, “Ok. So.. I don’t talk about things like this. I was always told that the face I should show to the world should be perfect and polished and faultless. And this… Well, this would really fuck all that up. But May is right, I should be able to talk to the people I care about.” He bit his lip and fiddled with something in his lap while Peter tried to grapple with the idea he made Tony Stark’s “People I Care About” list. “It’s been pretty well known that I had some drug issues when I was younger and I made some pretty shitty decisions as a result. What I, err, don’t talk about... Is the fact that I…”

Peter tipped his head down to try to catch Tony’s eye, the man was bright red and chewing on his lip ferociously. “Mr Stark, you don’t have to talk about whatever this is. It’s ok.”

Tony roughly shoved a hand through his hair and his reply was filled with fierce determination, “No Pete. I have to because how the hell can I expect you to tell me what’s wrong if I can’t meet you halfway. If I want you to trust me, then I need to trust you.” Tony steeled himself and ploughed on, “So when I gave up the drugs, I started to drink more. It got me into some really shitty situations, and.. Ugh, what I am trying to say, without getting the hives that I usually get when talking about emotions, is that I am an alcoholic. And I have PTSD, and an anxiety disorder. And uhh, I’ve tried to.. Y’know.. End it, once or twice…”

Peter froze, “Wait, what?”

A grim chuckled bubbled up Tony’s throat, “Yeah I try really hard not to talk to anyone about it. But the whole thing in New York back when the Avengers first got together really messed me up. I had flashbacks and anxiety attacks. I had no idea what was going on and it wasn’t until Rhodey pulled me out of my own pit of despair that I realised how bad things had gotten. I wasn’t sleeping, I definitely wasn’t eating properly and I.. I uhh stopped taking the medication I’m meant to take”

“That’s...”Peter was at a loss with how to respond. He settled on, “That’s a lot.”

Tony laughed humorlessly, “Yeah. I guess it is.” He made eye contact with Peter, “So, as someone who has smashed into rock bottom a couple of times, I can tell you with absolute certainty that you want to talk to someone about things before you get there.”

Peter flushed again and felt the urge to hide, it seemed wrong to even put what Mr Stark had been through and what was going on in his own head on the same level. Peter ducked his head and without thinking fished around for a cushion and pulled it into his lap. Physically putting something between himself and Mr Stark.

“It’s nothing.”

Tony sighed, he was painfully familiar with the turn this discussion was going to take. “Kid, if it is upsetting you this much, it isn’t nothing.”

Peter huffed in frustration, mood turning on a dime and having him pull at the edges of the pillow, “It _is_ nothing. I should be able to handle it.”

“Y’know one of the first things they tell you in therapy is to reevaluate any sentence with a should in it. They don’t tend to be all that useful, but they can be hurtful.” Tony looked at Peter for a long second, before he continued, “Just because you think you _should_ be able to handle something, doesn’t mean you can. And it means you spend more time worrying over things you can’t change.”

Peter was silent, so Tony pressed on, “And aside from that, who says you should be able to do handle things? Who decided that you can cope with everything you have resting on your prepubescent shoulders?”

Peter’s voice was muffled, but clear enough, “I’ve been through puberty, Mr Stark…”

Tony smiled, “Oh my mistake, you’re right. That makes the world of difference.”

Peter looked up just in time to see Tony roll his eyes.

“I just…” He let out a huff of frustration, “Other people have so much more to deal with. It feels… _Selfish_ to need help.”

“Pete, you are one of the best people I know. Even if this was something actually minor, you still deserve help.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “You’re just saying that.”

Tony put a hand on Peter’s shoulder and squeezed, “I’m really, really not. Tell me, do you think I deserved help when I chose to drink myself into a hole at college?”

“That’s not the same, there are lots of factors that go into addiction and choice isn’t exactly the biggest one.”

Tony nodded, “Right. So how is this more your fault.”

Peter opened and closed his mouth like a fish before looking back down and frowning, “Fine, so maybe it’s not my fault, but I should have this handled.”

“See, there is that should again. Even if you ‘should’ have this handled, you obviously don’t, so there is no point in worrying about what you should be able to do.”

“Ugh!” Peter threw his hands in the air and pushed off the couch. He gripped his hair and tugged as he started to pace back and forth in the living room, “See this is the thing! It just keeps going around in circles and now I’m here wasting your day and May’s day and I should be in school, but I’m too damn weak to cope and everyone has so much more important stuff to do!”

Tony sat and watched, waiting for the kid to run out of steam. It cut him to the core to let him rant about himself like this, but it might be his one chance to get an idea of what was happening. He leant back in his seat and watched as Peter continued to pace.

“I’m up here being fucking useless, taking up everyone’s time and energy that would be better spent on other things and it’s so damn selfish! I was meant to have this sorted by now! How can everyone else deal with everything and then I’m just over here being a fucking mess. I don’t even have a _right_ to be a mess! I haven’t been kidnapped or tortured or involved in a fight against fucking aliens or whatever other traumatic shit the Avengers get themselves into. I haven’t been to war, I haven’t been assaulted or even mugged for fucksake so there is basically nothing on the “normal human” scale of trauma either. It’s not like I’m depressed or have anxiety or something. I HAVE NO RIGHT TO FEEL LIKE THIS!”

Peter crumpled to the ground and Tony was by his side in an instant, arms wrapped around the trembling boy. He muttered useless platitudes into the kid’s ear until his wracking sobs settled into something a little calmer. Then he pulled back a little to let him see Peter’s face. It was blotchy and snotty and streaked with tears, but Tony couldn’t find it in himself to be disgusted. He just used his thumb to wipe the tears from his kid's face and press a kiss to his forehead.

“Hey, Pete? I think you have been through plenty.”

Peter looked up at Tony, eyes shining, “What?”

“Even if we ignore all the things that have happened to you that are totally reasonable things to cause trauma, mental illness can hit anyone. And without any reason. You don’t need to have something horrible happen to feel like absolute shit.”

Fresh tears gathered in Peter’s eyes, “Really…?”

Tony smiled sadly, “Yeah kid. Really.” He pulled Peter in for a tight hug before pushing on, “Can you tell me how you have been feeling in the last few weeks?”

Peter’s voice was muffled by Tony’s shirt, but honestly, it was a lot easier to talk when he didn’t have to look his mentor in the eye, “Honestly? I… I don’t... I don’t even know. I just don’t feel…. Right. I keep freaking out over little things and…” Peter was horrified to feel his eyes welling up again, “Shit. This keeps happening and I don’t know what to do about it. I feel like I am ok and then suddenly I am so… _full,_ and I want to scream and punch things.”

Tony put a hand on his shoulder, “Hey, it’s ok. Really.”

“Really?”

“Really. The first time I had an anxiety attack, I thought my arc reactor was failing. I couldn’t breathe, I thought I was dying. I was in the suit in the middle of the street and I thought I was going to die.”

Peter swallowed, “Oh…”

“Yeah… So, it’s ok to not know. The thing is that you learn and try to work things out.”

“Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I can’t breathe and my chest is so tight and all I can think about is how I have fucked every up and how useless I am.”

Tony nods, “Ok when that happens, what have you been doing to get through it?”

Peter looks down, “So the first few times I just waited for it to stop, but it took all night and by the time I kinda come back to myself it is time for school and then I have to go through the day without any sleep. Then I.. I uhh…”

Tony looked down at the purpling bruise on Peter’s hand, “You started to bite yourself?”

Peter sniffed, and nodded, “I don’t know why, but it just keeps happening and I don’t even realise until it’s happening and…”

“Ok… well, let’s pick something we can do something about in the short term.” He shuffled them both on the couch, “How are you feeling at the moment?”

“Huh?”

“Right now, what are you feeling?”

Peter swallowed and tried to think past just answering with “fucking shit”. He shrugged, “I don’t know. I feel… Empty? And tired, and… On edge?”

“That’s great Pete. Can you tell me why you are feeling on edge?”

“I… I feel like… I… I feel stupid. Like…”

“You’re ok kid, not judging, it’s ok if this is hard.”

“I feel like I made a fool out of myself last night, then again this morning, and it’s not fair on you or May. She works so hard for me, and you have so much going on, and neither of you deserves to have to put up with me. If I can’t even deal with what’s happened so far how can I keep going as Spiderman? I can’t deal with everything that happened, and my school work and patrol and whatever and I don’t deserve any of it.”

Tony nodded, “You’re right. That’s a lot.” He smiled at Peter, “But not something we can’t work through. You know it’s ok to struggle after something really rough happens? The other thing I know is that talking about things can help…”

“I just don’t feel like I deserve to talk to you about things that are basically my fault.”

Tony furrowed his brow, up until this moment, he was keeping up ok with the twisted logic the kid was using, but now he was lost.

“What do you mean your fault?”

Peter shrugged, “The things that keep me up at night, the ferry, the thing with the Vulture, all the stuff that happened in DC… If I had been better, none of it would have happened.”

“Pete, the ferry thing was a bad call, but you were just trying to do the right thing. And if _I_ had been more open with you, then you wouldn’t’ve felt the need to go rushing into it yourself. So if that is on anyone, it is on me. As is all the Vulture stuff. If I had listened, or actually talked to you when you needed it, it all would have played out really differently. You wouldn’t have gone up against someone with a highly technical set of weapons in nothing more than a onesie for starters…”

Peter was shaking his head and opening his mouth, but Tony cut him off, “Look, kid, the point is, we could argue about who is at fault all afternoon, but it doesn’t change what happened. And it doesn’t change the fact that it is ok to ask for help dealing with the fallout.”

Peter slumped back into Tony’s chest and Tony held him tightly. He looked up to see May standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall. He had totally forgotten she was there, but when the made eye contact, she smiled at him. She was crying quietly but mouthed “ _thank you_ ” at him.

The whole situation was a mess, but Tony was going to make it right if it was the last thing he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions?  
> Hope you like the update, this fic is very, very loosely based on the conversations I have with a younger friend who really needs some love and support. We met through Ao3 and I am glad she can learn something from the years I have spent paying for bloody therapy...  
> After Endgame, I need to write the Tony+Peter support and love I know we all deserve. If you need me, I will be in my cave where I exist on a diet of "Endgame Non-Compliant" HC fics..

**Author's Note:**

> So, did it make any sense?  
> God I hope it did...
> 
> **EDIT**  
> Hey guise  
> Not going to continue this for about 12 million reasons. Reason #1 is that I am planning a total re-write, but I will leavew this up in case anyone wants to do something with it.


End file.
